The Healer
by HazelVex
Summary: 'Tom. Lord Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. They all looked down at the fragile girl in their arms. This girl who had been theirs from the beginning. This girl who stopped them when they went too far. This girl who had single-handedly dragged them out of the Dark Addiction. This girl who they had let die. Who they had failed.'
1. Pt 1, Reflections of the Past

**The Healer**

 **Pt1**

Esme Lupin's heart almost stopped when the shivering boy was carried into the room. His lips were tinted blue; his eyes half closed and with the mop of mousey brown hair and fading olive eyes, she almost believed a ghost from her past had somehow made its way onto the stretcher.

Theodore Nott had arrived by the assistance of one, very frantic older sister who had revealed the story on how the boy refused to take the Dark Mark. Their father had chosen to lock him in the cellar of the manor house with no source of warmth other than the expensive but thin robes on his fragile son's back. Esme had all but gone into unconscious state there and then. It was too similar. _He_ was too similar. Not for the first time Esme was wondering if life was testing her.

*FLASHBACK*

 _In Hell, they wouldn't have survived the winter if they hadn't curled up around each other like they did._ _ **He**_ _refused to light the fire in the room the orphans resided in, and instead taunted them by making them light his. They were all packed into one corner, trying to share what little warmth they had; the eldest rimmed the outside edges and the youngest in the middle in hope to survive; the little ones always came first. Esme was in neither the middle nor the outer but somewhere in-between. She and her closest friend in Hell, Lenny, were in balls around each other, in ways that required a great deal of flexibility. All of them wished for at least one blanket, even if it was to be shared amongst many._

 _Esme knew something was wrong with Lenny. He was colder than usual, his olive eyes slowly dying and his lips fading into blue. She tried her best to get him warmer, even calling for the help of others. Some had stripped down to bare necessities in order to keep Lenny alive- Esme herself only in the meagre pathetic underwear she had scavenged on the streets a year before. There were many tears and screams of denial that night. The boy died in Esme's arms as she cried, her tears freezing on impact with the ice cold floor. The orphans of 52 became 51._

 _ **He**_ _did not share sympathies and after seeing Esme's tear-tracked face ordered her to place his body in the rubbish bags to be taken away by the bin men the following day. The bastard even joked how the boy couldn't have timed it better. She had done as she was told but not before stripping him down. She knew Lenny would've wanted what little he had to be passed on to save any others who had the misfortune of being dumped in Hell._

 _Lenny hadn't been the first and he wouldn't be the last._

*END OF FLASHBACK*

Esme's magic hadn't helped her then but she would be damned if she didn't use her now refined skills to save this boy. She got to work immediately; casting diagnostic spells; easing potions down his throat; healing and heating charms; piling on blankets, and, when she could do no more, she sat with him, holding his hand tightly as tears stained her face once more.

"I couldn't save Lenny," she said. "But please, for the love of life, don't die on me Theodore. I…" She choked. "I couldn't take losing another to the same thing."

Esme cried herself asleep clasping onto her patient.

Young Theodore Nott's eyes flickered open fully and he whispered, "Don't worry nurse," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I have no intention of leaving this world just yet."

And somewhere, whether it be high or low, in the land of the dead; the ghost of a child called Lenny smiled down on his best friend and applauded her in his solitude for all that she had achieved and for not giving in to the darkness that had surrounded her.

* * *

 **This is meant to be one-shot but, if people are interested, I'll take it up as a multi-chapter story.**

 **Please review and tell me what you think- it means a lot. 3**


	2. Pt 2, The Gates of Hell

**Pt2**

Esme watched, completely still, as the Undertakers wrapped Theodore's body in white sheets. He stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder, a cooling pressure preventing her from doing anything reckless in her grief, which she was she sure she would've done. The indignation of Theodore's parting was still raging inside her and with nothing to vent herself with, she fell to the darkness inside her, it threatening to swallow her whole. Frustrated, she shrugged his hand off her shoulder and walked out of the room.

Healer Tonks, her supervisor, had given her the next few days off; claiming it was for traumatic stress. The Aurors still didn't know why she hadn't been killed too; Death Eaters weren't known for showing mercy but Andromeda Tonks nee Black was not someone you wanted to mess with in Mother Hen mode and so they were cast out before they could question the young girl. Esme was grateful in some ways but at the same time distraction was what she needed most and that was always her work for her.

Esme changed out of her green robes quickly and switched into more comfortable skinny jeans and a t-shirt. It was a strangely sunny summer's day this time round and so she saw no need to put on a jacket as she stepped out into Muggle London. She wasn't sure where she was going but she was in her territory and walked with a strange, sly confidence whilst in its embrace.

Esme didn't know for how long she had walked but she knew it must've been a while because it wasn't long before she was standing in front of the gates of Hell. The ruined remains were scattered and charred; the old forbidding grey stone walls reduced to that of a demolition site. What little left of nature had overgrown and wilted, giving off the impression that stepping beyond the gates meant you would begin dying, so very slowly.

She closed her eyes. Memories were running across her mind but the most vivid was her first day. The day she, along with three others, had been dragged to the gates of Hell, kicking and screaming inside.

*FLASHBACK*

 _The social worker opened the car door and waited impatiently for the scared five, six and seven year olds to get out. They didn't move an inch, staring in fear at the building before them. They had little reason to be as terrified as they were, at least to the outsiders, but children had always had good instincts and they knew that the moment they crossed the threshold there would be no going back._

" _Hurry up brats," the social worker, Marianne Jones, snapped._

 _Warily, the four children scurried out of the car, each clutching their small bags of personal belongings. Mrs Jones slammed the car door loudly and briskly led the way up to the gates. After a moment's hesitation, the children followed, wishing with all their hearts they were anywhere but there. It seemed their faerie godmothers were taking the day off as no-one answered their prayers. No-one ever did._

 _Mrs Jones rapped on the large oak, iron-cast doors, and stood tall and pinched waiting. One of the doors creaked slowly open and a large, burly man appeared. He was balding and had only wisps of ginger hair left and his malicious brown eyes flashed at the sight of them._

" _So you're the new ones?" he said, grinning a toothy grin that for the next six years would only mean pain and torment._

 _The four orphans shrunk back, already shaking._

*END OF FLASHBACK*

Esme shivered and unconsciously rubbed her left wrist. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and walked away; it would do her no good to dwell on the past. No matter how much it controlled her, whether she admitted it or not. She stepped into an empty side-alley and flicked her wand, Apparating away.

* * *

 **First of all, thanks for all the favourites, follows and reviews- it means a lot. Second of all, I'm sorry but it's another short chapter as I don't think you can add anymore to the end of that. Third of all, this chapter is more of drivel although it does hold clues to her past, present and future if you look hard enough. And finally...**

 **Review Responses:**

 **ToriAlwaysPotterHeart1313: Thanks, and yes it was a little bit sad. It's going to be a fairly sad story I'm afraid but I think that's what's going to make it all the better.**

 **Emma22901: Thank you, I can only hope this chapter lives up to follow the first one.**

 **KiyiyaTheHowlingWolf: Thank you so much! And it's nice to know my grammar was al'right- I do proof read my stories but sometimes a few mistakes still slip through.**


	3. Pt 3, Remnant of a Memory

**Pt 3**

Esme had never particularly liked the Weasleys as a whole. She had often found them stifling and more often than not, she had seen the underhand favouritism and manipulation that was at play. She understood perfectly as to why the twins upped and left, whilst the two eldest, Charlie and Bill, had found jobs as far away as possible; one in Romania and the other in Egypt. Really, those four were the only ones she liked or rather, didn't mind their company at times; the twins had never cared that she was a Slytherin in her days at Hogwarts, even daring to call her a Slytherpuff on the odd occasion, and Charlie and Bill had no qualms revealing to her their distaste of how their family was run.

It didn't mean she thought they were all horrible people. No, despite all their prejudiced and lack of acknowledgement that the Dark Lord did have a fair few good points, not to mention their erratic and often rude behaviour, they were good at heart and showed this to everyone they deemed 'Light'; specifically Gryffindors. She had often suspected that they only accepted her due to her being Remus's half-sister and the fact that she was a Healer.

It didn't matter; all of this; however, as she never willingly went to their home; not without very good reason. But she needed to see her werewolf brother; she needed some reassurance that _he_ at least was still alive…still real…

The seventeen year old walked up to the front door of The Burrow and gave a short, soft, rap. She waited a fair few moments before a very disgruntled, red-faced, Mrs Weasley appeared at the door. Upon seeing the girl, the woman beamed and ushered her in.

"I suspect you're here to see Remus I suppose?" the Weasley matriarch rambled, leading the way. "You're welcome to stay for lunch, if you want. I'm afraid there's a lot of us at the moment, what with Bill's fiancée here as well as Ron's friends. I suppose it is made easier that Charlie, Fred and George have moved out…" The woman trailed off and opened the door into the sitting room, and gestured for her to go in. "In you go dear, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Thank you Mrs Weasley," Esme said politely, before making her escape into the sitting room.

This room of the house was often in just as much disarray as the rest of it, and it was only made worse by the teenagers and three adults sprawled across it. They all turned to see who had entered and most of them gave her friendly smiles before turning back to their conversations although Remus saw right through her and immediately knew she was upset. He instantly held out his arms and she ran into them, unable to stop the already falling tears.

Remus held her in his arms, shushing gently at the silently crying girl who was curled up on his lap. "What's wrong cub? What happened?" he asked.

"One of my charges was murdered," Esme said, her voice broken in so many places it pained the only family she had.

Her voice had been quiet but it had cut through the air, silencing everyone. The teenagers all turned ever so slightly grim, and stared at their fellow teen in shock. Bill looked at her with sympathy, and Fleur with an unmasked sorrow. Already, the war was stealing innocent lives.

"What?" Remus said, the horror evident in his gentle voice.

"He was brought in by his sister," Esme said shakily. "He refused to take the Dark Mark so his father left him in the dungeons to change his mind." Esme saw nothing of the room she was in; only the fear she had felt when the boy had entered her care. "He was going to make a full recovery…by morning he'd been murdered."

"Who was he?" Bill asked quietly.

"Theodore Nott," she answered, turning her head into her brother's chest. "His name was Theodore Nott."

Hermione let out a small gasp, "He was in our year! A Slytherin."

"Well, let this be a lesson," Esme said bitterly, at the mention of her old house. "Not all Slytherins are evil. And not all of them lead the pampered lives you mistake them to have."

Esme knew, that even if Theodore had been a murderer she would've been just as frightened when his unconscious form was rushed into the wing. Because, when she looked at him, all she could see was the dying form of her friend; all she could see was Lenny and everything his death had burned into her. No matter what Theodore had done, she would've tried her best to save him. And she had failed.

She. Had. Failed.

Esme suddenly felt restricted and leapt out of her brother's grasp. She had come here with the intention of seeking refuge, and now all she wanted to be was alone. She shook her head and muttered, "I have to go."

Before anyone had chance to do or say anything, the girl had Apparated out, with no destination in mind. It would be fate that decided where she would end up, or if she would end up anywhere at all.

Fate must've been decidedly cruel to her that day, as she landed before the remnant of a memory; Riddle Manor.

*FLASHBACK*

 _She hid behind the taller boy's shoulder, uncertain if she wanted to see this or indeed, for them to see her. The three muggles before them were confused and indignant as to why two teenagers had turned up in outdated fashion and were holding sticks in their hands; one of which was aimed at them. She knew she was being silly, but she felt skittish at the mere idea of being near muggles, especially with what had happened the last time she had been close to one. She flinched at the memory of the flames licking her body with their fiery tongues; her inexperience had cost her, her life that day._

" _Do you know who I am?" Tom asked, his voice cool and dangerous; so very perfectly sophisticated and refined. "Do you not recognise me?"_

" _No!" Tom Sr growled. "I suggest you leave at once; you have no business being here."_

" _On the contrary," Tom drawled. "I have every business being here; I wish I could say it was good to see you,_ Father. _" He practically spat the title, as though its mere presence on his lips was offending his very being._

" _F…Father?" Tom Sr stuttered, looking confused for a moment. Then recognition crossed his face, along with a great deal of anger. "You're the spawn of that bitch!" he shouted. "The one who tricked me into marrying her."_

" _Indeed," Tom said, drawing out his words as though he was taking pleasure in this moment. "The very same_ bitch _you left to die on the streets, along with her unborn son…" He smirked maliciously. "My mother did indeed die, but not before dropping me off at an orphanage. And do you know what I learned?"_

 _Tom Sr shook his head, fear finally beginning to sink in. You could not stay in Tom's presence when the teenage boy was like this and not be fearful for your life._

" _That muggles are the very reason there is such a high Mudblood mortality rate," Tom answered. "And that their influence that passes through such Mudbloods, are destroying the wizarding world from the inside out. No longer can those faithful to Lady Magic, practise the very traditions they have every right to; no longer is it considered common to have a male bearer; no longer are the very foundations of Lady Magic herself, recognised."_

" _I don't see what this has to do with us," the elderly grandfather said shakily._

" _Nothing," Tom said truthfully. "You have done very little to contribute to this factor. But you have royally pissed me off. And for that, you will die."_

*END OF FLASHBACK*

Esme stared unblinkingly at the manor house before her; lost in her past until the familiar presence set her world alight.

"Hello again little one."


	4. Pt 4, This Girl

**Pt 4**

She wasn't sure what had happened between when she had died and now but she knew that even after all these years, despite his hardened exterior, he was still the same. Underneath all the hate, the bitterness, the drive to do more, to be better, he was still just Tom.

The moments after his appearance had blurred in her mind. She knew how her body had crumpled, how she had fractured inside after seeing him in so long. He had caught her before she had hit the floor and now carried her bridal style through the halls of Riddle Manor, her head on his chest as shivered uncontrollably.

It had been the same once before when he had lived and she had died but she had been reunited with him again in a world where he had not yet been buried. Her magic had lashed out, latching onto his, causing her body to go into shock at the sudden change in her magical core. She always had wondered why he never reacted the same…

"My Lord," a voice breathed, followed by the almost silent swish of robes as a faithful follower bowed low onto the marble floors.

"Ah, Lucius," Tom said, his voice cool. "I suppose you have news on the matter of Draco?"

Lucius's eyes flickered hesitantly towards Esme before stuttering out his answer, "Y…yes, my Lord."

Tom caught this hesitation and gave him a hard stare. "Esme Lupin is to be treated with the utmost respect, is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said quickly. He opened his mouth before catching himself and quickly snapping it shut, deeming it better for his health not to continue with his train of thought.

"Is there something you wish to say, Lucius?" Tom asked, raising a singular eyebrow.

"No, my Lord," Lucius answered.

"Hmm," Tom hummed, looking at him with disdain. "I want to see young Draco tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp, and do not think I have forgotten about your failure at the Ministry."

"Yes, my Lord, of course my Lord."

"You may go."

Lucius gave a low bow of his head before hurrying down the hall, almost running to the Apparation point. Tom paused to sneer after the man before continuing his own journey, in the opposite direction.

Esme blearily mused studied what she had just heard. She knew from Harry what had happened at the Ministry at the start of summer, and had come to her own conclusions that Tom would be displeased about what had occurred; particularly at Lucius, who had been the one to lead the little escapade but she now feared for Draco. She knew the blonde well enough to know he was not ready to achieve whatever the Dark Lord was throwing at him, especially when it was an angry Dark Lord. The boy had control over Slytherin House, not himself.

"Don't go hard on him," Esme murmured into his chest, darkness dragging her down as she fought to stay awake. This day had been too long…

Tom glanced down at her. "On who?"

"Draco," Esme answered, her voice barely a whisper as he eyes fluttered closed.

Tom. Lord Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. They all looked down at the fragile girl in their arms. This girl who had been theirs from the beginning. This girl who stopped them when they went too far. This girl who had single-handedly dragged them out of the Dark Addiction. This girl who they had let die. Who they had failed. Failed to protect. Failed to keep safe.

This girl is what grounded them. This girl is what kept them human.


End file.
